


A Reason To Be

by EmetoOmo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: Jesse is injured in a surprise ambush from Talon, bad enough to have scared Hanzo more than he wants to admit. Insisting he would ‘heal better in his own bed’ Hanzo brings him home against Mercy’s advice to care for him out of the view of prying eyes.





	A Reason To Be

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked:  
> Jesse waking up in the middle of the night, instantly jolting up panicked, with his heart racing, and majorly confused as to why he’s awake. It’s only when he feels the pang in his stomach that he receives a not so gentle reminder about the day’s events prior.
> 
> Graphic depictions of vomiting ahead.

Not a whole lot scared Jesse McCree. Off hand, he could really only count one. Losing Hanzo. It was a Catch-22 loving someone an immensely skilled archer who fought regularly for the good of the world, but also hated themselves enough to not care whether they lived or died…They had a hero complex with relatively no regard for self-preservation.

Jesse sometimes wondered if he could just love Hanzo enough for the both of them, if it would somehow fix that ache the elder Shimada felt in his soul, and rekindle that flame of life. If what they had could become a raison d’etre to him, and cure the pain and angst that weight heavy on his shoulders. Hell, McCree would help shoulder if himself if he could. It was too much for one man to bear.

That was all he was thinking as he brushed back those unruly strands of hair that framed Hanzo’s face. The way those dark eyes lit a little for it, the slight lilt of his lips, the way it made the archer’s breath catch  _every single time_. He could expect many things on such an innate level, but the gentle touch of calloused fingers from his cowboy was something he felt so keenly, it was as if it were for the first time, every time.

He enraptured that man with such a simple motion that it made McCree feel like the most powerful man alive…invincible even.

At least, it did until he saw that great shadow coalesce behind his lover, the motion of a gun being raised. Not Hanzo… _not his Hanzo…_

Time moved so slowly as he drew his pistol, pushing Hanzo aside with that glint in his eye. If he could see them, he could shoot them. It just took a blink of an eye…and McCree blinked…but… _why did his eyelids feel so heavy?_

“McCree!”

Hanzo’s voice sounded muffled, far away.  _“Good.”_ He thought to himself, his arms beginning to feel leaden and heavy.  _“Finally listened to me…got himself to safety.”_

His shirt felt wet and sticky as his knees buckled, and found himself surprised to be laying dazed looking at the stormy grey sky. Above him, great twin blue serpents entwined, twisting and sailing like hungry spectres as his vision began to dim.  _“They’re always so gotdanged pretty…”_

He closed his eyes, and surrendered to the comforting dark embrace as two corded arms wrapped around him.

~*~

Jesse gasped, setting straight up into impermeable darkness, sweat covering his bare chest and causing the sheets to cling to his thick, muscled thighs. At first, he didn’t know where he was, fear that he had somehow died there in the streets crossing his mind, before pain racked his stomach and forced him to double over. His head swam, forcing nausea to the forefront of his senses, powerful and unrelenting.

Those wrong arms enveloped him again, but this time, he could feel his lover’s cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Easy.”

“What…happened?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Those arms slipped a little lower, gentle in the way they sought to pry Jesse’s arms from his middle. “Ambush. Talon.” Sleep still clung to his voice, making it sound deeper, husky. “Let me see.”

Reluctantly, McCree moved his arms, resting fully against Hanzo. “I feel sick.”

“The Doctor said you might.” Hanzo whispered, and propped pillows up behind McCree, helping him lean back. The pain was excruciating as he did. “Stay.”

“W-wait…” He whispered, reaching weakly for his hand. Hanzo released a breath that often went with those rare smiles.

“I will return.” He promised, and slipped into the restroom. The light as he flipped it on blinded McCree, piercing and unforgiving, making his head swim worse.

“H…Hanzo…” Oh god…it was coming…he could feel it and he didn’t think he could fight it.

Like an angel, the archer returned in time to hand McCree the bucket, and press a couple of thick folded towels gently against McCree’s stitches just as he began to heave. “Let it come.” He soothed, just using that pressure to take some of the stress off his stitches.

He didn’t  _want_  to let it come. The dry retching felt like fire, like being slowly ripped apart inside. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he trembled, and Hanzo had to move to sit behind him, wrapping one arm around him to keep those towels in place while the other held the trash can for him. “Shh…shhh…” he continued soothing him gently until he heard the first bit of thick wetness hit the bottom of the plastic container.

It was dark, and looked a lot like coffee grounds. Angela had warned him it might, and added she’d be more worried if it were bright red. Blood didn’t settle well on a stomach, and it wasn’t entirely unlikely that there was some residual from after they removed the bullet. He strained again, bringing up more of the old blood with a wet slapping to the bottom of the trash, a line of sticky saliva left trailing from his lips.

The retching didn’t last too long before it tapered off enough for Hanzo to reach onto the side table and grab a small blister pack. Opening it produced an even smaller pill. “Open.”

“I can’t…it’s…gonna come back up…” he panted, his head still swimming, the pain of his stomach refusing to give up.

“It dissolves.” He reassured him, and sighed relieved with McCree parted his lips, and let him put the anti-emetic onto his tongue. It was slightly sweet, but overall didn’t carry a powerful taste, dissolving in a matter of seconds. “Let me know…when you are ready for water.”

McCree slowly rested back against him, whining softly as Hanzo moved the towels to make sure he hadn’t busted a stitch anyway. “You…never said what happened.” He whispered.

The archer, only rested his chin atop McCree’s shoulder, sliding his hand to entwine his fingers with the sharpshooter’s, entirely surprising him with the motion. “I…found my reason for living.”


End file.
